Perfect Poison
by rosebud1000
Summary: The new rune looked perfect, harmless, beautiful. So she marked herself with it. But even the evil witch's poison apple looked perfect.
1. Chapter 1

Head down. Shoulders hunched. Traitorous red curls plotted their escape from her hood. The bus screeched back to life, leaving her on the corner. She'd signed up for one class at the university. She was failing.

She trudged through a maze of towering buildings, parking garages, and steep hills. Locals and tourists alike crowded the sidewalk; it was a rare sunny day in Seattle, and they were determined to make the best of it. Clary looked out of place in her grey hoodie and jeans. She was used to being out of place.

She took a final turn, onto the now-familiar block of her apartment. A small, seemingly abandoned antique shop sat on the side of the street. Outside stood a young man, ordinary as ever to the mundane crowds about him. Clary squinted past him at the shop, and the rust came off the door, the closed sign disappeared, and it became the werewolf den she knew it to be, the one Luke had led her to.

...

" _You'll still be allowed to talk to me," Luke told her gently. "I've talked to the Alpha; he'll make sure you're safe. If you need anything, write to me, or Magnus, or Catarina, or find the pack. You have the money and the plane ticket?"_

 _Clary nodded. She felt numb. She was leaving New York. But she couldn't stay- so close to Simon and Jace and the Lightwoods, she'd spend every day wondering at a chance encounter, plan her every move to find them unexpectedly. So when Luke asked her where she wanted to go, she'd chosen Seattle. All the way to the other ocean. Similar enough to New York she wouldn't be clueless._

 _So she climbed into the taxi and left the Institute behind forever._

 _..._

Clary took her mail from the apartment lobby and headed to the elevator, up to the second floor. It dinged, and she stepped out. She put the new envelopes on the counter with the older, unopened ones. The apartment was nearly bare, just a studio, with a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a mattress she slept on laid across the floor.

She took off the hoodie, her bare arms pale and freckled. Red marks wrapped around them, wounds still healing. It'd been two months. An iratze here, a strength rune there, her parabatai runes a deeper red than the others.

...

" _Clary…" Simon was standing near her, and he was crying. He was watching his runes fade, she realized, through what little thought she could manage. Her own were burning, burning into her skin, her flesh beneath them on fire, and she was consumed by invisible flames. Simon put his hand on her wrist, startling her, but where his fingers were was coolness, and where his gaze fell was calm._

...

She had to leave. There was something wrong with being in the city. With knowing that, somewhere in the labyrinth lay an Institute she could never enter. Its doors would remain locked to her, its inhabitants mysteries. She had loved the New York Institute, the library filled to bursting with books, the weapons room holding angelic blades, the training room with its beams and ropes and targets. It had been her second home, was Izzy's and Simon's and Jace's. And now she would never get that again.

...

" _Why did you wake up in the middle of the night?" Jace asked. She rolled over to find him lying parallel with her, golden eyes staring into her own._

" _I had a rune dream," she said, reaching to her nightstand for the paper she'd drawn it on. It was intricate and swirling; beautiful._

" _What is it?" he said, in awe of her abilities. The rune could be for anything, creation or destruction; life or death._

" _I don't know, it seems… perfect." Clary traced the graphite with her finger._

" _Even the evil witch's poison apple seemed perfect."_

 _..._

Clary began putting her few possessions into her messenger bag. It wasn't much. Money from Luke and Jocelyn, gifts from her friends, and the letters. She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked so normal. Clarissa Fray. A mundane. If she didn't still have the Sight, she'd think this was all a time-travel trick, that she would have to conquer Valentine all over again.

Carefully, she lifted a ruby necklace off the table, latching it around her neck. From Izzy. A piece of fabric was glued over the back, to the cover the rune that would otherwise burn her skin.

...

" _I thought you might want this," Isabelle said, holding it out to her. Clary took it, putting it around her own neck. She was standing in the Institute's kitchen. She was leaving soon, and would never enter an Institute after._

" _Thank you."_

 _Izzy hugged her, and Clary wished there were words for what she was feeling. She was like her older sister, and Clary really did love her, from the moment they'd started working together to train Simon. And now she was leaving. Her marks were fading into scars; there would be a letter from Jia Penhallow soon, confirming her Stripping. Izzy, who never wanted people to see her cry, let go, cheeks wet._

" _We won't ever forget you, Clary. The whole damn world won't ever forget you." She retreated up the stairs, leaving Clary alone in the kitchen._

...

Slipping back into her sweatshirt, Clary deemed herself ready to leave. The elevator dropped her haltingly onto the ground floor, and she walked back out into the bright sunlight. She turned away from the antique shop and toward the train station. She reached it quickly. As she entered the station, she was reminded of how perfect a place like this was for Shadowhunting.

It was crowded with humans, so demons had good reason to be there. And where demons often were, so were Shadowhunters. Being recognized as the missing Shadowhunter was the last thing she wanted right now. She pulled the strings of her hoodie tight to hide her face. Stressed, she moved to twist her ring, as had become her habit over the past months. But her finger was bare.

...

 _She was slipping in and out of consciousness. Time seemed nonexistent. All she knew was the comings and goings of her friends, her parents, Magnus, Catarina, and strange figures she assumed to be Silent Brothers. Her arms burned, runes being drawn from her skin._

" _Take it off," said a voice. Magnus._

" _What?" Jace._

" _It's yours, isn't it? The ring?"_

" _Yes, but-"_

" _It's runed?"_

" _Of course. Family rings always are."_

" _It's hurting her, Jace. Take it off."_

 _..._

Though she could barely see through the pain, she knew Jace was next to her, that he was holding her hand, and she felt it now as he slipped his family ring off her finger.

The train arrived, screeching on its tracks. Clary boarded, glad to find the car she chose was nearly empty. She sat down. There was a lurch, and the train had started again, crawling off into the tunnel.

It wasn't long before the train ascended onto the ground, bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. The city was far behind her, and she leaned her face against the glass, watching the trees pass by. Her reflection blinked back at her faintly, and she saw not her own features, but her mother's.

...

" _You have to be careful with your runes, honey," she said._

" _I know. I can always tell what they'll do. Not precisely, but I just… know." She leaned into her mother, who always there._

" _Be careful," Jocelyn repeated. She smiled, hugging Clary._

 _..._

The train passed a beach, full of children screaming and waving at them as they passed. Impatient drivers stopped as they crossed a street, pulling into a stop. A sign read "Edmonds-Kingston Ferry." Clary decided to get off, walking out into salty ocean air. A ferry boat was unloading, a stream of cars and pedestrians dispensed onto the land.

She walked across the street and towards a building next to the dock, following other passengers. After buying her ticket, she stood with the rest of the crowd, waiting for loading to begin. It eventually did, and she stepped onto the boat. It started moving.

Clary stood at the front of the boat, letting the wind blow in her face. It felt good. Behind her on the deck, children played and dogs barked. Clary took her hood off. The wind cooled her neck, the red scars that should have been runes.

Somewhere, a child had fallen and was crying. His mother picked him up, soothing him. He was curled, refusing to move.

...

 _She'd passed out. That was all she could remember. And now she was being carried, out of the library, the Institute. The new rune burned into her skin, bold thick lines that swirled across her forearm._

" _I'm taking her to the apartment," Alec's voice cut through the air. He paused, and Clary realized he was talking on his phone. "No, I don't know." The other person said something. "It looks like something with a rune. Can you call Jace? I couldn't get him. Alright, we'll be there in two minutes. Okay. Love you."_

 _..._

Clary got off the boat. She wandered along the edge of the water, down to the beach. A wind came up off the water, chilling the air. The sun had started sinking into the mountains behind her as she faced the mainland, off in the distance.

She stood at the shoreline, water reaching up to the toes of her sneakers. Hot tears fell down her cheeks, silent but steady. Carefully, she took the letters out of her bag. The first one was from Luke, his familiar scribbled handwriting asking if she'd made it to Seattle okay. She didn't read it; could bear to. Instead, she pressed the paper into the water, let the ink bleed into illegibility. She held the wet, ruined paper, then put it aside on a piece of driftwood. The second and third letters were next, begging for a response. She set their remains on the log.

It got easier, ruining her last connections to them. She was still crying but ignored her tears, Magnus' and Luke's words fading before her eyes. And then she was holding the last envelope, the one she'd picked up earlier that day. She opened it, pulled out the letter. A small, pale blue scrap fluttered to the sand. She picked it up. In gold lettering it read, Save the date! Isabelle and Simon, April 9, 2013. Clary smiled, placed the paper in her bag. That, at least, she would keep. And then she put the last letter in the water, put it on the log next to all the others. That was it. She would never get them back.

From her bag, she drew a music book. It was old, with pages worn from turned, dog-eared and faded notes. She flipped through it, could almost hear the piano being played, music floating from the library through the Institute. Halfway through flipping, she stopped. Jace had covered the margins of Clair de Lune with writing. It was a love letter, written in soft pencil, accompanied by the notes of what he knew was her favorite song. She contemplated ripping it out; never seeing his handwriting again, never seeing his signature, a confession of his love for her, ever again. She couldn't do it.

...

 _Jace was holding his stele out to her, had his sleeve rolled up. Clary held tighter to the ruby Isabelle had given her._

" _No."_

" _Clary, I can't imagine living without you-"_

" _No. You're a Shadowhunter. I… maybe I never was."_

 _Jace set the stele on the counter, jaw clenched. He swallowed. "Fine then. I'll get a Silent Brother, I'll-"_

" _You will not be Exiled for me." Clary stared at him, determined. "Say it. Promise me- no, swear it on the Angel."_

" _Clary." His voice was soft, shocked, hurt. She fought back tears. If she cried now, he'd comfort her, he'd convince he could be Exiled, that it would be okay if he was. It wouldn't._

" _Please," she whispered._

" _I swear on Raziel I won't be Exiled for you," he breathed. The words were rushed, but they were there. He rolled his sleeve down, covered the runes on his arm._

 _And he kissed her. He lips were warm and soft, his breath sweet. He was crying, they both were, and she tasted salty tears. It was long and slow, and they were holding each other, arms wrapped tight, and Jace was perfect. When he drew away, she could feel the finality, knew it in his gaze. Their last kiss._

" _I love you," he said._

" _I love you too." And she left to meet Luke outside the Institute._

 _..._

The sun was nearly gone from the sky, the shadows were long, and the air smelled of salt. Somewhere, a bird called. Clary turned to find it. A blue heron, standing in the shallow water, alone against the fading blue sky. She put the music back in her bag, shivered in the cool air. The blue heron called out again, long and croaking, and raised its wings, lifted out of the water and away. Clary stared after it, at the ruined letters now drying on the log. She wasn't a Shadowhunter anymore. She was going to have to learn to live with that.


	2. Chapter 2

Clary's living room was a mess. There were old pallets, pads of paper, and paintbrushes scattered everywhere. And she had the day off, so she was going to clean.

She started with the paint brushes. Luckily, watercolor didn't dry on and ruin them as acrylic would have, and she'd been using watercolors for a few months now. Her fingertips wrinkled under the water as she cleaned the bristles. Her hands were red and raw by the time she finished, and the sun had set. She moved around the apartment, gathering up all the tubes of watercolor left on the windowsill and putting them in drawers. A stack of watercolor paper sat on a chair, still in large rectangles, waiting to be cut and painted on. She moved them off, leaned them against her easel. As she did so, a stray piece of paper fell out.

It was soft, worn thin by the time it'd spent wandering her apartment, covered in graphite that had been smeared from its words, though they were still readable. From the top of the page, the title _Clair de Lune_ taunted her. She could put it away, keep it perfect, unread. But she didn't. Her eyes were drawn to his letter, written in the margins in messy handwriting. Jace's words wrapped around her as she read them, reminded her of how she'd loved him- how she'd never stopped loving him.

Before she could stop herself, she'd found paper of her own, a pencil, an envelope. She still knew the Institute's address.

 _I miss you. I'm in Kingston now. I have a job at a cafe here. I have artwork on sale there, too. I'm actually painting now, not just drawing. It takes longer. Makes up for the time I would spend training. I miss that, too. I miss everyone. Mom and Luke are probably worried. He doesn't know my current address- but of course you know that. I hope you're all doing well. I hope Simon is, especially. How was the wedding?_

 _You can't tell anyone about this letter. I don't want to try to be a Shadowhunter when I can't. I might not even send this. I love you._

 _Clary_

* * *

Okay, time to restart. I have a plan this time, and hopefully, it'll start making more sense.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this, and I'd love a review.

-rosebud


End file.
